


new rules (two opposing arrows converging into a common point)

by Aenaria



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Getting Back Together, Idiots in Love, Post-breakup, ShieldShock - Freeform, because we all know I love me some happy endings, does it count as a songfic if you don't put lyrics in the piece, yeah it's totally a booty call darcy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 19:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenaria/pseuds/Aenaria
Summary: “Darcy - ““I know.  When you’re right, you’re right.”  She sighs, downs half the margarita and licks the traces of salt from her lips.  “I’ve always been great at breakups.  I can be great at this one too.”Breaking up is the easy part.  Talking out your issues after the breakup, and possibly giving the relationship a second chance?  That’s far more difficult.Especially when the people in the relationship are as stubborn as Darcy Lewis and Steve Rogers are.





	new rules (two opposing arrows converging into a common point)

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely GhostCrumpet’s fault, who posed an idea about doing some super short ficlets around the idea of the song New Rules...yeah, apparently I am physically incapable of writing short and sweet, and as I’m a sucker for a happy ending? This piece was definitely a challenge though, because relationship angst is not something I do often. I think it came out all right, however, and I hope you enjoy it too!
> 
> No spoilers to be found, though you could use the headcanon that this takes place post-EndGame in a happier universe than Marvel will probably give us (Thanos? What Thanos? My head’s still firmly back in 2015 fandom…).
> 
> Thanks to Dizzy Redhead, Stancey, and Abbyli for their advance reads and helping me to get these two lovable idiots from fighting to to actually talking things out.
> 
> Finally, if you recognize where I got Darcy’s quote and the subtitle for this fic from, you get...well, maybe a hot dog instead of a cookie. And if you know where the quote is from, that will make perfect sense to you.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“Don’t do it.”

Darcy looks up from where her phone is buzzing on the bar, eyes almost twitching before they settle on Jane’s face.  “I’m not doing anything,” she mutters.

“Bullshit,” Jane fires back.  “You remember what happened the last time you took one of Steve’s calls.”

Darcy’s mind flashes back to that time, to what had happened on the kitchen table...and in the shower...and that time in the actual bed too by the time they’d finally made it there in the wee hours of the morning.  “It was a one time thing.”

“Yeah, more like for the third time in two months.  And the second time,  _ you _ called  _ him _ .”  Jane reaches out, hand wavering just slightly thanks to the alcohol she’s already consumed, and grasps Darcy’s hand in hers.  “Look. I’m not going to say the breakup has been easy for either of you, because I know it hasn’t. And as much as you keep calling Steve a - “

“ - sanctimonious, sacrificial asshole,” they chorus, Darcy nodding along with each word.

“ - you still care for him,” Jane continues.  “But if you want to move on, you need to actually get away from him and not give into the booty calls every now and then.”

Darcy nods, though half of the movement gets lost in her margarita.  “C’mon, you have seen his booty though? Especially in those combat pants?”

“Darcy - “

“I know.  When you’re right, you’re right.”  She sighs, downs half the margarita and licks the traces of salt from her lips.  “I’ve always been great at breakups. I can be great at this one too.”

The buzzing of her phone stops after a few more seconds, and Darcy can’t say that she’s not disappointed that Steve doesn’t call again.  But, a text message arrives a little while after that, one that Darcy makes sure not to read until she’s on the subway home from the bar, away from Jane’s prying eyes.

**********

It’s near one a.m. when Steve shows up at her door, looking like he’d been dragged backwards through a hedgerow thanks to the many tiny scratches decorating his face and neck, topped off by a brilliantly multicolored bruised eye.  “You look like shit,” Darcy greets him.

“Sentient plants,” Steve all but groans.  He shucks his jacket off, though it stays clutched in his hands instead of tossed over the back of her couch like he would have done before, back when they were a them and not these split apart people they are now.  “I don’t want to see a vine for a long, long time.”

His presence fills the front room of her tiny apartment, a mostly kitchen space with a couch and television shoved in there because her bed takes up most of the space in the other room and that’s all that she can afford in the land of exorbitantly high rents, otherwise known as Brooklyn.  But goddamnit, Steve fits too well in the space, filling in the cracks that Darcy can’t quite reach, like he’d never left her life. “You still look terrible.” She sighs, runs a hand through her messy hair and shoves her hands in the pockets of her unicorn print pajama pants. “Did you go to medical, or get cleaned up at all?” she asks, just before she pulls his coat out of his hands and drops it on the couch for him.

His hesitancy to respond says it all, and Darcy just rolls her eyes, grabbing his hand and hauling him into the bathroom.

It should be noted that he kisses her first, Darcy thinks, just as Steve’s hands begin to skim up under her sleep shirt.  She busies herself with his mouth, and her fingers find the tuck of the towel around his waist, dropping it to the bathroom floor with a damp splat.  He scoops her up, cradling her to his chest, and then they’re in the bedroom, the mattress at her back and miles of warm flesh against her front.

This physical act, the combining of the two, of Darcy welcoming Steve into her most intimate parts, the bodies moving together as the sweat builds, breathing into each others’ mouths, feels so much better than Darcy ever wants to admit.  Whatever problems they’d had, sex had not been one of them. Steve laps at her skin, moaning nonsensical words into her ear, and in response she rakes her nails down his back, hard enough that she can feel the shudder in his muscles, like if she just pushes a little more she can rip the bullshit away from his skin and feel the soft, vulnerable core under there, raw and bloody and real.

But all her nails manage to do is leave little crescent imprints in the small of his back, tiny white divots that she knows from experience will soon fade away.  The feeling though...it obviously lingers, because after that Steve just manages to ramp up the speed, movements growing quicker and erratic, a hand skimming down her side and tugging her even closer towards him, where it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

And fuck, if that isn’t the most codependent thought that’s ever flown through her head, Darcy thinks, her mind flittering back to the real world for a brief moment instead of whatever pheromone laced fantasy land they end up in every time they have one of their sexual adventures.

Then his hand slips over the curve of her hip, finding her mound and flicking a finger at the edge of her clit, and the haze drops over her once more.  Oh, to hell with it. She can enjoy this, just for a little while longer.

Afterwards, they sprawl naked across her bed, the covers kicked down to the bottom and slipping off onto the floor.  Between the two of them, they take up most of the mattress, because it’s one of those nights where they can’t stand to touch, or even look at each other, after the deed is done.  But their shoulders still manage to brush up against each other, leaving warm tingles beneath Darcy’s skin without meaning to do so.

Darcy sighs, a long, drawn out, melancholic sound, and pushes some sex-tangled hair out of her face.  “I hate how good we are at that,” she mutters.

“Liar.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m thinking.  You’re absolutely not a mind reader.”

“I would never presume to.”  Steve’s voice drops into something softer, more wistful.  “I know you better than you think I do. Despite you thinking I’m an unobservant prick.”

“Was I wrong?” Darcy mumbles, running her hands through her hair again and leaving it draped over her face because the last thing she wants is to have to look at him for this conversation.

“Mostly?  No. I’ll cop to that.  I’ve had more than my share of boneheaded moments.  But you made me slow down and take a second look.” She hears Steve sigh, feels the roll of his head on the pillows.  

Darcy can’t help but flick her eyes in his direction, looking hazy and misty through her hair and almost gilded in the street lamps that shine through the window right onto the bed.  “Oh yeah? Prove it,” she blurts out.

He meets her eyes even through the haze, no matter how much she wants to hide herself away, and she resists the urge to shudder from the intensity.  “No matter how much you say you like the busyness and the craziness of the world, what you really crave is stillness, and order, and peace. You know full well the world we live in is as mad as...a, a bag of cats, but whenever we were together I felt like I could...just be, for the first time in a long time.  And that was all you, and whatever peace you’d found in yourself. Felt kind of contagious, sometimes. You were always the one calm, peaceful, brilliant bright thing in the middle of this dark and crazy world.”

“Funny that, usually people call me chaos bringer instead,” Darcy says weakly.  That’s the only response she can muster up, because Steve’s words cut more deeply than she’d ever liked to admit.  Especially as she knows that chaos is well and good, dammit, but sometimes a breather would be nice. Why the hell couldn’t he have mentioned this while they were dating?

“Those people don’t know you like I do.”

Darcy all but writhes on the bed, naked body twisting against the sheets as her arms stretch over her head and her eyes flutter shut.  “‘I am chaos,’” she quotes, ending the words with a deep sigh. “‘I am the substance from which your artists and scientists build rhythms.  I am the spirit with which your children and clowns laugh in happy anarchy. I am chaos. I am alive, and I tell you that you are free.’”

Steve hums under his breath.  “Maybe that’s true. But didn’t someone once say that we contain multitudes?  That you need both chaos and order inside yourself to really appreciate both of them?”

“Don’t throw my own words back at me, dammit.”

“You started it.”

He rolls over, dropping a hand on her arm, which brings her eyes towards him once more.  “No matter what happens, don’t underestimate yourself. You’re incredible, and there’s so much more to you than what any of them out there knows.”

It’s bare, raw emotion, which Darcy has never been all that great at handling.  Fuck, neither of them have been historically, not really, which was one of the nails in the coffin of their relationship.  Whatever words she wants to say in response get stuck in her throat, so instead she just drops her hand over Steve’s, squeezing his fingers lightly.

The moment is broken a little by Steve yawning widely, jaw creaking under the force of it.  “Sorry,” he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of his other arm. “Been a long couple of days.”

“Don’t apologize.  Mad scientists who watch too much hentai are not your fault.”  Steve just nods against his arm, his eyes looking even heavier than they were a moment before, and Darcy feels something go all soft and affectionate inside of her.  “Okay, the only reason I’m not tossing you out to do the walk of shame back to your place is because you still look like you fought a plant and the plant won.” Darcy turns onto her side, facing away from him because she doesn’t want to know what he’d say about the look on her face right then.  She feels strange, stretched thin, yet oddly full, like she could burst out of her skin at any moment. And she’s entirely sure if it’s a good feeling or not, but it’s different. Something new, which while it isn’t exactly a rarity in their insane world, it feels unlike anything else she’s ever encountered.

“Mmm.  Okay.” Once his breaths become smooth and deep and even, Darcy glances back over her shoulder, knowing that he won’t be able to see her looking.  His head’s lolled to the side and there’s an odd peace to his face, battle fatigue and good sex making him lethargic and slow and more content that she’s seen him in a long time. 

The peace is tenuous, however, because a little while later Darcy’s roused out of her sleep by the sound of whimpering coming from next to her.  The nightmares are still a constant companion, one that Darcy had gotten used to sharing the bed with. The shit that Steve had seen over the years...sometimes it was hard for her to wrap her head around.  Maybe because she didn’t remember, but then again hardly anyone on the planet did, according to the whispered conversations she’d overheard Steve and Thor having a while back.

Then again, if he’d have fucking shared his griefs with her, maybe they wouldn’t be in this consternation right now either.

Steve cries out again, even louder, tossing in the blankets with an uncomfortable looking shiver.  Her heart cracks, just a little, at the noises, because she really doesn’t want to care. This is her ex; they broke up loudly and unavoidably and everyone knew about it...though it wasn’t for a lack of caring about each other.  “Shit,” Darcy whimpers. 

She reaches across and grabs Steve’s shoulder, gently enough that she knows it won’t wake him.  It’s not the first time she’s done this, in any case. She tugs just a little until he rolls toward her in his sleep, burying his head in her chest and grabbing onto her like she’s a life sized teddy bear.  

“What do you want?” Darcy whispers, and she’s unsure if the question is directed towards Steve or herself.

What she does know is that he feels too good in her arms.

_ Maybe if we just shut up and actually talked about it _ , Darcy thinks, as she combs her fingers slowly through his hair, trying to calm him down the best way she knows how.

...talk about it.  Could it really be that simple?

Darcy eventually dozes off again, Steve’s weight warm against her front, more comfortable than she can admit, even in the privacy of her own mind.  It’s a light doze, one of those where she’s pretty sure that she’s asleep, but she can’t quite be certain of it (and thank everything that tomorrow’s Saturday and she’s off work.  Otherwise she wouldn’t be good for shit). Her own odd dreams float through her brain, nonsensical images and stories that only serve to make her feel even more confused. 

But soon, too soon, Darcy comes around a bit at the feeling of fingers stroking against her upper arm, lightly tracing imperceptible patterns over her skin.  She cracks her eyes open to find that the bedroom is still dark, the sun not quite poking above the horizon just yet. Her head turns towards the window next to the bed, a gloomy deep grey sky visible casting all of the surrounding buildings in shadow.  Off in the distance there are some twinkling lights visible, possibly from a plane, possibly the bridge, possibly an alien. Who knows these days. 

Steve’s head, still pillowed on her chest, is aimed towards the window also.  Darcy will fully admit that the view from the window, out over the buildings and streets of southern Brooklyn, with just a hint of the Narrows in the background, is the only redeeming feature of this tiny bedroom, and so she set her bed up right against it so she can enjoy the view whenever she wants.  Given the gentle hand movements against her skin, she’s got the strong suspicion that Steve is awake and enjoying what little he can see out there.

“Y’know, when the lights are all off,” Steve mumbles quietly, “it kind of reminds me of Brooklyn before out there.  At least for a little while.”

Darcy hums, non-committal and light, as she gives into the indulgence to run a hand through his sleep-mussed crop of hair.  “Future Brooklyn’s not entirely terrible, though.”

“It’s got its redeeming features,” he replies, stroking her arm once more.

She takes a deep breath, or at least as deeply as she can with such a weight on her chest.  “I had a thought,” Darcy says, cool and calm, like she isn’t feeling her stomach drop out from under her right then.  

“Mmm?”

“We are really pretty shitty at this whole breakup thing.”  Steve’s hand stills on her arm, and she can hear his breathing get a little shallow.  “Most people I know who break up don’t act like we do afterwards. Which makes me think, and I’ve come to the conclusion that we are great at the good parts of a relationship, including the sex, but we are, and I am including both of us here, absolute shit at communication.  So, I think it’s time we need to talk instead of just fucking around.”

Steve all but nuzzles into her chest, his nose tracing over the slope of her breast.  “Probably a smart idea.” 

His mouth follows his nose over her curves, but Darcy puts a stop to that by tilting Steve’s head back by the hair, pulling his face to look up at hers.  “Uh, no, nope. The sex shop downstairs is closed up until we actually sit down and hash this mess out, otherwise the same old shit is going to continue and neither one of us will be truly happy.”

She feels him sigh, a warm exhale against her skin, and he sits up, the blankets falling down around his waist, exposing his bare chest to the room.  It’s a sight she adores, but she’s determined not to be distracted by it. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s talk.”

And Darcy sure as shit ain’t having this conversation lying down.  She pushes herself up, and leans back against the pile of pillows that she’s got in lieu of a headboard.  “What was going through your mind when you decided to break up with me? Because that’s an undeniable fact of this whole mess, that this whole break up thing was your idea.

His shoulders drop, and he seems to shrink into the blankets, just a bit.  For a moment, Darcy’s sure she can see the smaller man that Steve used to be once upon a time, the stubborn little punk that still exists inside of him that so many people don’t want to admit is still there.  “I was thinking...that you could do so much better than me. My life…” he waves his hands in the air, as if trying to encompass everything he’d experienced with a few simple movements and utterly failing at it, “I don’t even know how to make sense of it most of the time.  You shouldn’t have to be burdened with that.”

“Yeah, and it’s a burden that just about everyone else out there will say you don’t have to carry all by your lonesome.”  Darcy gives in to the eyeroll, thumping her head back against a pillow. “You have a martyr complex, and you think you’re the only one who can fix things, and that every single thing must fall on your shoulders.  I know of an entire compound of people upstate who will call you out on that shit right now.”

Well, that struck a chord.  Steve’s nostrils flare, and an ugly flush takes over his cheeks.  “Don’t put this one just on me. Because we both fucked up here. Your bad tendency to run away from emotions that are more complex than ‘yay’ is also a culprit.”

Her stomach churns at the words, which sets her hands tingling from the sudden spike of anxiety that flies through her system.  “That’s...that’s fair,” Darcy nods. She crosses her arms over her chest, pulling the blankets tight against her.  _ Communicate, bitch _ , the little voice in her head that’s supposed to be her conscience pipes up.  “I’ve been burned by those emotions before, you know. Parents, exes. You open up to the wrong person, and then all of a sudden they turn those emotions right back on you, like you’re weak, or broken because of them.  Eventually it becomes easier just to push them away and pretend they don’t exist.”

“Did you think I was going to do that to you, too?” Steve asks.

“It’s easier not to stick around and find out.”  Darcy tugs the blankets up further, an armor that will do fuck all, but she’s determined to see this through anyway.  “You do get condescending sometimes, especially when you get pissed off. And we were both raging during that last blow out.  So…” She trails off, shrugging, unable to meet Steve’s eyes so she looks out the window instead at the sky that’s still clinging to the last clouds of night.  “Doesn’t hurt as much to cut and run. That’s why I’m so great at breakups. Except for this one. You’re the only one I can’t let go of. Which I’m trying to look at as a sign of something more powerful than just us being total idiots.”

Steve motions at the pillows next to Darcy, asking for unspoken permission.  She nods, angling her chin at them. He shuffles up the bed to settle in next to her, dragging his own blanket and cocooning it around himself.  “I think,” he begins, reaching over to tangle Darcy’s fingers in with his, “and I didn’t realize this until after, that I think I wanted you to fight back, to metaphorically beat some sense into me, only I couldn’t get the words out.  Probably one of the only times in my whole life I’ve ever actually backed down from the real fight.”

“And then instead of fighting back I just walked,” Darcy says quietly.  

“Yeah.”  Steve shakes his head then, a rueful, almost sad smile curving his lips.  “The first time I called you after that, I really did want to try to clear the air, you know?  Because maybe it would be worth it to try and fight back. Only it kind of degenerated…”

“Into us fucking each others’ brains out in a supply closet instead of actually talking,” Darcy finishes.  “But that’s the million dollar question, I think: are we worth fighting for?” She’s proud of how strong and steady her voice sounds as she asks that, because the knots in her stomach are writhing like snakes, and there’s an ache in her jaw from how hard she’s clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering with the anxiety.

Steve turns to look at her fully, eyes wide and shining in the low light of the morning, a deeper blue than she’s ever seen them before.  “Do you want to hear what I really think, or do you want to hear the answer that would make our lives easier?”

“I want the absolute truth.”

“The truth is I think that we are absolutely worth fighting for.  It won’t be easy, not at all, and this won’t be the last time we have another blow out, but it’ll be worth it because more than anything else, I want you in my life.”

“I want you in my life, too,” Darcy says quietly, her free hand finding his face and stroking it, knuckles rasping gently over his morning stubble.  She tips to the side, burying her head in Steve’s bare chest because it’s going to be so much easier to say what she wants to next if she doesn’t have to look at him.  “I never stopped loving you,” she murmurs. “Even through all of the bullshit that was always a constant. But I’m sorry I hurt you by running away and not talking.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t speak up either.  I could have been more open about...everything instead of trying to handle it all on my own.”  He presses a kiss to the top of her messy hair, pulls her in closer. “I still love you, too,” he whispers.

“You don’t have to carry the weight of the world all on your own, not when you’ve got people willing to help.”  Darcy pulls her head up to give him a glare, even though she can feel that it’s not as strong as it could be. “And you can’t be a condescending ass when those people who support you voice opinions that don’t live up to your moral standards.  Which could use a little loosening up. Get with the 21st century, old man.”

“I’ll give you old man,” Steve says, though there’s no heat at all behind the words, and it’s a nice change.  

Darcy gives into the indulgence and steals a kiss from Steve’s mouth, but pulls away quickly to give him another firm look.  “Okay, so, new rules to live by.” She holds up her hand, ticking off her fingers as she goes through the impromptu list. “One: if something that the other does bothers us, we talk it out.  Can’t let it fester, otherwise we’re going to repeat this mess. Honesty is key. Two: Any big decisions concerning both of us will be made by both of us, not by one of us making the choices for the other.  Especially because we need to improve that communication thing. Three…” Darcy trails off, her mouth twisting as she taps her third fingers together.

Steve takes her hand, lifting it so that he can press a warm kiss against the back of it.  “Three is that even if we can’t agree on something, which will inevitably happen, there is always, always a compromise to be had.”

“And anything else, we can figure out as we go along.”  Darcy smiles at Steve, leaning back into the pillows and pulling him over her.  “It won’t be easy, but then again, neither one of us has been known to back down from a challenge.”  She twines her arms around his neck, feeling like her world’s axis had shifted far off course, but is now finally settling back into something right and balanced once more.  “So? What do you think?”

“I think it’s going to be chaotic.”  Steve bends down, tracing over the beam of sunlight that’s finally cracked through the trees and laid a stripe of golden-white light over Darcy’s cheeks with his nose.  “I can’t wait,” he says, grinning wide enough to rival the sun.


End file.
